


Bad Feeling

by Everyday_Im_Narrating



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, But it probably isn't, Fluff, I'll give you a heads up if it's about to get gruesome, M/M, Med Student Stiles, Teen Pregnancy, all that good stuff, pregnant cora, warning: medical stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:49:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Narrating/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Narrating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is an intern at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, working the obstetrics wing for the time being. When a teenage girl in labor comes in with a grown, bearded, unfairly attractive man by her side, he has a bad feeling.</p>
<p>(Or: the one where Cora has a baby, Stiles thinks Derek is her way-too-old boyfriend, and I'm making this up as I go.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Labor

**Author's Note:**

> Yes. I did it. I caved. I wrote Sterek.

At Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, in the labor room, each patient has a sign above their bed with their name on it, clearly visible for any of the doctors, nurses, and medical students who'll be checking on them periodically until their babies are finally ready to make an appearance. On his first obstetrics shift, Stiles Stilinski and Lydia Martin are in charge of several tasks; some of them are kind of fun, some incredibly awkward, and some just plain boring, like writing up each patient's name and age on that little dry-erase board. Next year they'll graduate and do more exciting things, possibly, but right now Stiles is kind of really happy just welcoming all the pregnant ladies with a marker in his hand.

 

He's just finished hooking one of the women up to a CTG machine - which means the poor girl will have to sit still for twenty whole minutes while experiencing contractions; Stiles is glad he'll never get pregnant - when another patient walks through the door. This one catches his eye for two reasons.

 

One, she can't be older than sixteen.

 

Two, the guy who's accompanying her to the bed - a guy who, while admittedly handsome, is very clearly somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties.

 

It's not the first time Stiles sees this kind of couple, but it never fails to piss him off. This girl, who's pretty and skinny and looking like she's about to fight every person in the room, probably won't get to finish high school because of some fully grown fucker who decided to knock her up. He's fine when it's a teenage couple; just two hours ago, a seventeen-year-old girl gave birth while holding the hand of her eighteen-year-old boyfriend for support, and that was understandable. But this? This is not.

 

Stiles greets them with a quick nod and takes the girl's file from a nurse's hand before he even tries to approach them. Cora Louise Hale, it says. Sixteen years and eleven months old, thirty-eight weeks pregnant. Under "partner", the field is completely blank, and Stiles wonders if this guy had the nerve to leave her alone during the pregnancy and just show up last-minute to see the grand finale.

 

Sighing, he sets the file down and approaches the two with his dry-erase pen in hand, smiling reassuringly at Cora and solemnly ignoring Eyebrows McDouche as he picks up the little board behind her bed.

 

"Hey, I'm Stiles. I'm gonna be taking care of you." His introduction is met with nothing but a grumpy look of disbelief. "Cora, right?"

 

She nods, completely silent, while Eyebrows (yes, that is his name as far as Stiles is concerned) just scowls. What the fuck does _he_ have to be so angry about? She's the one who should be angry. So far, she just seems understandably impatient; if Stiles were pregnant, he'd want the labor to be over as soon as possible too. He jots down her name and age on the board before asking the next question - this one is optional, but he kind of loves it, just because of how the mommies' faces light up when they answer it.

 

"Does the baby have a name yet?"

 

Cora's lips do something that could, with good intentions, be interpreted as a smile.

 

"Aaron or Emily."

 

"Aw, you want it to be a surprise?"

 

"Yeah. I don't know if you have the information in that file, but if you do, no spoilers."

 

There's definitely a little smile there this time, and Stiles grins back with a feeling that he and Cora will get along just fine.

 

There's a routine to follow, one that repeats itself every hour. Check all the fetal heartbeats. CTG on each mommy-to-be every three hours. Check for dilation and contractions if applicable, and if his teachers said it was necessary, give them medication. Right now there are five women in the room, and among himself and Lydia, they're able to work fairly quickly to finish up the 7pm; quickly enough that they're able to head down to the hospital cafeteria together for dinner and be back in time for the next round.

 

"What's making you so grumpy?" Lydia asks, frowning at her plate. It's fish day. "We're barely halfway through the shift."

 

"Did you see that girl up there?"

 

"Be more vague, will you?"

 

"The sixteen-year-old with the grown-ass boyfriend."

 

"Ah, yeah. Not my favorite people in that room."

 

"Same." Stiles mumbles through a mouthful of fish and rice. "The girl is fine, but the dude keeps staring at me like I'm gonna kill her or something."

 

Lydia shakes her head, the look on her face one of half amusement.

 

"Maybe the scowl is part of his bad boy look. Goes with the stubble and the eyebrows."

 

The two of them laugh, and after a few seconds of silence, she makes a little face of disgust and puts her fork down, leaving half of her dinner untouched.

 

"Next Thursday, you and I are going out for dinner. This is gross."

 

"You know I'm on a tight budget, Lyds."

 

"I'll pay."

 

"You don't have to."

 

Lydia shakes her head. "I hate eating alone, I know you hate it too, and most of all, I hate this fried white goop they have the audacity to call fish. You and I are going out next time, period."

 

She has her most assertive tone on, and Stiles nods with a little laugh, quietly wondering how someone so amazing can be in a four-year relationship with _Jackson fucking Whittemore_ , of all people.

 

He guesses he'll never know.

 

\---

 

Derek will readily admit that being surrounded by a bunch of women in labor intimidates him a little bit. It's something about the moaning, the lack of privacy (the sheer amount of butts he's seen today), the constant sound of the fetal heartbeat monitors, and the secondhand relief when someone finally gets taken down the hall to have their baby. That, and Cora's hand squeezing his like it's made of rubber.

 

It's not like he's about to complain. His little sister is in pain; the least he can do is let her hold onto his hand for comfort and silently curse every generation of the fucker who did this to her in the first place. But it's getting worse, Cora is swearing like a sailor, and the person taking care of her is nothing more than a kid.

 

He's not an asshole, alright. He knows there are students working at the hospital, and most of what they're doing is just grunt work that the actual doctors pass onto them - nobody would actually like to spend ten full minutes with their hand on someone's belly to time the contractions, after all - but still. The real doctor has checked on Cora _once_. Everything else, it's that Stiles boy who's done it. It's 11PM, no sign of the baby coming anytime soon, and so far they've received hourly visits from that boy who kept talking to Cora like she was his friend and completely ignoring Derek's existence.

 

This can't be a good sign. There's something fishy about this _child_ who's touching his sister as if he has a clue what the fuck to do. He'd prefer the short girl who looks like she could just order each baby to pop out and it would actually happen; at least she talks like she means every last word. Stiles talks like someone flipped a switch inside him and forgot to turn it off, just endless streams of words tumbling out of his mouth to fill the awkward silences. Derek might want to punch him a little.

 

He's in a corner of the room now, having what looks like a heated argument with a tall, bearded doctor. His hands are flailing all over and he looks a bit panicked, but the man does little more than hand him a piece of paper and a pill. Derek watches curiously as the man pats Stiles twice on the shoulder and walks away, leaving the boy with the pill in his hand and a slightly desperate look on his face.

 

There are few more unsettling things than a doctor-to-be holding a pill while looking uncertain. One of them has to be seeing that exact scenario as the boy steels himself and walks up to _your_ baby sister, then tucks the piece of paper in her file and puts a hand on her wrist. Cora's eyes are on the pill, not on Stiles', and Derek wraps his arm around her shoulders in a way that's more possessive than reassuring.

 

"Dude, easy." It's the first time this kid actually speaks to him, and his eyes are narrowed, annoyance clear in his voice. Well. Likewise.

 

"Just leave the pill here and I'll get her some water." He replies, his tone just as dry as Stiles'. To his surprise, though, the boy swallows audibly, and his cheeks turn a little pink as he looks at Cora.

 

"This isn't a pill you swallow." He says, and her brow furrows. "This is misoprostol. It's supposed to help your cervix dilate faster so you can have little Aaron or Emily before the sun comes up, hopefully."

 

Cora folds her arms in front of her chest, casting the boy a doubtful look.

 

"If I'm not supposed to swallow it, then how...?"

 

"It goes in your vagina, and I'm supposed to put it there."

 

Derek's heart does two and a half backflips and lands flat on its ass.

 

"You're supposed to _what_ now?" Because he can't possibly have heard right. From the way Stiles's face turns even redder, he did.

 

"Exactly what I just said, dude. I know it's uncomfortable and awkward, but it'll help."

 

He hadn't really been anticipating the smack on the forehead that followed. Not from Stiles, but from Cora, who casts him a look of undiluted disapproval.

 

"Don't get all weird. If it's gonna help, I want it."

 

"Cora, this kid-"

 

"Is about to help me get _my kid_ out of _my_ belly by sticking that thing into _my_ vagina, so I don't really see what makes you think _you_ have a say in this."

 

"Also: not a kid." Stiles says pointedly, and Derek is about to put him in his goddamn place, but by now he's nudging Cora's legs apart and she's letting him. Squeezing Derek's hand as tight as if she were having a contraction, but letting him nonetheless. And then Stiles is - fuck, he really is sticking two of his fingers in a place whose existence Derek would prefer not to think about.

 

"For the record, this is really fucking weird and I kind of hate you right now." Cora groans. "It's a one-time deal, right?"

 

Stiles gives her an apologetic shrug.

 

"Every six hours."

 

"If I still haven't given birth six hours from now, I'll be dead."

 

"Give yourself a little credit, c'mon."

 

Stiles is back to just addressing Cora and completely ignoring Derek, and it really shouldn't bother him as much as it does. Still, when the boy turns around and walks away, Derek isn't proud of it, but he makes a very ugly face behind his back. What the hell is his problem?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, either.

It's almost 3AM, there's still four hours to go, and Stiles just wants to go home.

So far, he's counted thirteen babies, two of whom were twins. Thirteen. That's way too many babies. He's down to a sad, tiny bag of roasted pumpkin seeds in his pocket to hold him over until seven, his hands are slightly sticky from glove powder and ultrasound gel and hand sanitizer, and he's just done. Done. This obstetrics deal is definitely not for him. 

He looks to his side and is hit with a pang of sympathy for Cora Hale, whose sweaty hair is plastered to her face and whose fingers cling to Eyebrows' bigger hand as she sleeps. She's been half asleep, half moaning in pain for about an hour now, and if it were up to Stiles, he'd send her straight to a C-section and put her out of her misery already. It's not, though. The boss just says that if they don't have to do it, they won't do it, and so far little Aaron or Emily's heartbeat has been perfectly healthy. 

Eyebrows himself isn't doing much better. As much as Stiles doesn't like the guy, it's hard not to feel a little bad for him; there are bags under his eyes, he's refused to leave Cora's side even to eat, and even as she's sleeping, he just looks equal parts exhausted and terrified. Every time she makes a little sound of pain, less angry and more pleading as the hours go by, he pushes her hair out of her face or kisses her knuckles, and it's not Stiles' fault that his heart softens a little. Especially when right next to them there's a woman whose husband is sprawled out on his chair, snoring away through her contractions. 

Eyebrows looks up and catches Stiles' eye, which really shouldn't make him blush, but he can feel his cheeks heat up. Even more so when Eyebrows makes a hand gesture for Stiles to come closer, and he does, more than a little apprehensive. 

"She okay?" He asks. Cora looks paler than the last time he checked on her. 

"Does it look like she's okay?" 

Eyebrows' tone isn't snarky, just tired. Stiles can relate. 

"She's in pain. It sucks, but there's not much of a way around it." Even as he says it, he's assessing Cora, from the slight trembling of her hands to the droopy-eyed look she gives him. There's no doubt her situation has gotten worse; Eyebrows is watching her like she'll die if he looks away. 

"She's sixteen." His voice is shaky, too. "She shouldn't - this isn't right." 

_Then maybe you shouldn't have gotten her pregnant_ , Stiles thinks bitterly, but keeps it to himself. In the sheet of paper he and Lydia are using to mark down the hourly tasks, it says Cora's next CTG is an hour away, but Stiles excuses himself and brings the machine again nonetheless. When she sees it, she whines. 

"Fucking hate that thing." She mumbles, but arches her back so Stiles can slide the two strips of fabric that'll hold it all together underneath her body. "There's gotta be something you can do, I feel -" She's on the verge of tears, not for the first time tonight. "Feel like I'm dying." 

Stiles finds the right position for the sensors and straps them on, then presses the button on the machine. It'll be twenty minutes before it's ready, and since he'd have nothing to do for those twenty minutes anyway, he decides to grab himself a nearby stool and sit next to Cora, maybe try to keep Eyebrows's eyebrows from fusing permanently together. 

Up close like this, Eyebrows is even _more_ handsome than Stiles initially thought. There are little flecks of honey and grey in his green eyes, and his beard looks soft like a fucking _teddy bear_ ; Stiles bets he's one of those guys who have special beard shampoo. Briefly, he pictures Eyebrows lathering up the lower half of his face, and has to bite back a laugh. 

"What?" The guy asks. "What's funny?" 

"Nothing, nothing." 

"What does that thing do, anyway?" 

Stiles hopes he's making sense. He's not a hundred percent sure. "It measures the baby's heartbeat and her contractions. Depending on how the baby reacts to the contractions, we can tell if they're doing okay in there or if we should get them out right away." 

Eyebrows laces his fingers through Cora's, sighing softly. 

"This should be easier." 

"I know." 

"She's a kid. I called you a kid before, but she's an actual _kid_." 

Stiles doesn't say anything, just loudly huffs. 

"What's the matter with you?" It's probably a good thing that some of the snark has returned to Eyebrows' voice. Probably. 

"Couldn't think about how young she is when you were _making_ the baby?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"You heard me." 

Something weird happens right then. Because there's a clear look of confusion on the guy's face, then a flash of _something_ comes over it, and then he - 

He _laughs_. 

It's not a full body laugh, but his eyes crinkle and he genuinely laughs like it's the best joke he's heard in a while, and is it really Stiles' fault that he finds it so endearing? 

On the bed beside them, Cora groans. 

"What's funny?" 

"You didn't hear that?" Eyebrows asks, still smiling big with little bunny teeth showing. 

"I was sleeping." 

"He thinks the baby's mine." 

Cora scrunches up her nose in... Disgust? 

"Gross, he's my _brother_." 

Oh. 

That... Yeah, that changes things. 

The moment would be a lot funnier and more lighthearted if it weren't for a new contraction wreaking havoc on Cora's uterus, judging by the way she contorts on the bed and whimpers like she's been stabbed. Eyebrows is right, she shouldn't have to go through this; whatever hint of a smile there had been on his face before is replaced immediately by a worried frown. 

Cora is gripping his hand so hard, his fingertips are red; it takes almost a whole minute for the pain to subside enough that her body relaxes and her grasp on her brother's hand loosens. Poor thing. 

There's still ten minutes to go. 

"We don't get a lot of brothers around here." Stiles comments, because the two other pregnant women are fast asleep, Lydia's in the middle of a C-section, and the dead silence in the room creeps him out. "Actually, if it's not the baby's dad, it's usually the girl's mother, or a sister, or a friend. Dudes are a bit of a rarity." 

Eyebrows nods. 

"I'll bet." 

"You guys must be close." 

"Yeah, best friends since she was born." 

Stiles gives him a smile, briefly remembering Scott's promise that when he and Kira get married and have a baby, Stiles will be the kid's godfather. They're brothers, too, in every way where biology isn't a concern. 

"Is it just the two of you?" 

"We have an older sister, but she lives in New York. We've been texting back and forth all day." 

"What about your parents?" 

Eyebrows doesn't answer, just swallows, and Stiles knows that face too well - it's a face he's made several times, too. 

"No parents?" 

"Not since I was her age." 

"Sorry." 

"Yeah." 

They go quiet for a moment. This time, surprisingly, it's Eyebrows who breaks it. 

"Derek." 

He has his free hand stretched out; it takes Stiles a second. Derek. Of course his name isn't really Eyebrows. Stiles shakes his hand firmly and decides to introduce himself with his real name, just to see the guy's reaction. 

"Mieczyslaw." 

"... 'Scuse me?" 

He chuckles. 

"It's Polish. I go by Stiles for that exact reason." 

"I like your other name better. Might take a few tries to pronounce it, but still." Eyebrows - _Derek_ \- gives him the tiniest smile, ducking his head, like he's embarrassed of his bunny teeth or something. 

And, yes, Stiles' heart is fluttering like crazy, but that's when the CTG machine beeps loudly and spits out a long sheet of glossy paper, so he stands up quickly to get a good look at it. The air is tense as he does, and Cora's shaky hand tries to undo the straps that bind the sensors to her belly, to which Stiles responds by laying a gentle hand over hers as he reads. He doesn't usually touch the patients more than he has to, but the teen moms are usually kind of terrified, so he does what he can to offer a little comfort. 

He's not sure about what's going on in the paper. Maybe he's just a little too eager to put Cora out of her misery, but it looks like there's something off, and he won't take any chances - with a quiet announcement that he'll be right back, he chases down the first doctor he finds and shows her the results. 

He comes back five minutes later with the paper in his hand and a victorious grin on his face. 

"Good news!" He announces proudly, approaching the bed and freeing Cora from the machine altogether. This time, instead of slumping back down, she sits up, just the prospect of good news giving her a bit more energy. "Okay, the not-so-good news first: the baby's getting a little uncomfortable in there. Which is nothing to worry about, because you, young lady, have just been promoted to a C-section." 

Cora looks at the same time relieved and frightened; Derek mirrors her expression. 

Stiles gives them both a bright smile before he goes to get his sterile gloves.


End file.
